


Studies in Comparative Arousal Methods

by mundaneanarchy



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundaneanarchy/pseuds/mundaneanarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos stares at him in disbelief before the realization starts to sink in. He had heard rumors, but had assumed it was only gossip among his companions who were prone to exaggeration about the strangeness about Night Vale (an accomplishment, it must be said, given that the whole town sounds like one big exaggeration). He had never once believed that it was true that the town had truly banned any form of sex ed or contraband.</p><p>--</p><p>Basically: Cecil is a virgin and Carlos is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Studies in Comparative Arousal Methods

_“Fuck, yes…fuck, God, yes, right there. Oh, God.”_

Cecil sits against the headboard of Carlos’s bed, staring at the clip Carlos had saved onto his hard drive under the name _Studies in Comparative Arousal Methods_ with wide eyes and perfectly straight posture. He had originally taken Carlos’s laptop—with permission, of course—to check the headlines for this week in Night Vale to note down for his next broadcast, but became distracted with Carlos’s long, detailed, complicated file names.

Cecil grabs a throw pillow from behind him and holds it over his lap, his face turning a bright crimson. He stares at the video, which is so foreign and strange to him but for some reason—he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“Cecil,” Carlos calls from the kitchen. He walks into the room, wiping his hands on his dark, worn jeans and being careful not to stain his pristine lab coat. Cecil is faintly aware that he’s broken some sort of de facto rule by snooping around on another person’s personal property, but he can’t force himself to try and hide his tracks even as he hears Carlos coming closer. “I made something to eat if you want to—Cecil?” Carlos halts suddenly and a look passes over his lovely, lovely face as if he’s starting to realize that something is off. He notices that Cecil is a very noticeable shade of deep red, one that he’s never seen Cecil turn before. “Cecil, is that—is that my laptop? Are you watching something? What are you—what are those noises?” He snatches the laptop and turns it to him, and all the color immediately drains from his face. It is quickly replaced with an embarrassed red flush.

Cecil sits in silence, still staring at where the screen used to be. He digs his nails into the pillow and grinds it hard against his crotch, desperately seeking some sort of unfamiliar relief.

Carlos whips his head up to look at Cecil and closes the laptop quickly. “Cecil, were you watching—did you go through my—my—” Carlos stumbles over his words in the way only a man who is completely mortified could. “Were you watching my porn?”

“Your—what?” Cecil blinks, dazed, as if being brought out of a trance.

“My _porn_ ,” Carlos says, louder this time. The embarrassment in his voice starts to morph into anger.

“Is that what that was?”

Carlos stares at him in disbelief before the realization starts to sink in. He had heard rumors, but had assumed it was only gossip among his companions who were prone to exaggeration about the strangeness about Night Vale (an accomplishment, it must be said, given that the whole town sounds like one big exaggeration). He had never once believed that it was true that the town had truly banned any form of sex ed or contraband.

“Those men…” Cecil says, stunned. “They were…I…I’ve never seen…” He bites his lower lip, hard, and lifts his eyes to Carlos’s, before they quickly descend to the crotch of his jeans.

Carlos’s eyes go dark and he feels the blood rush to his crotch. Though they had been dating for nearly a month, they had barely gone farther than embracing each other as a greeting or chaste kisses after a date. The first time he had pushed his tongue into Cecil’s pliant mouth had made Carlos’s stomach feel like it just reached the apex of a roller coaster and his fingers tingle like they had after his first science experiment had gone awry. Carlos had felt so dizzy after that encounter he hadn’t even considered pushing it any farther than that. The last thing he wanted to do was scare away Cecil, who had changed his view of Night Vale completely, and make him feel rushed into anything too quickly. It had even occurred to Carlos that Cecil may never want to go any further at all, which, surprisingly, hadn’t bothered him in the least. Every time he looks at Cecil his stomach turns and his heart skips a beat (despite the physical impossibilities of these two circumstances), and he wouldn’t give up that feeling for anything.

Looking at Cecil now, with his wide, innocent eyes and red, wet lips and the pillow suffocating his lap, Carlos forgets all impulses he has to yell at Cecil for invading his privacy dissipate. Right now he wants nothing more than to finally see Cecil as he’s never realized that he always wanted to; unraveled and torn apart.

He leans his weight onto the bed carefully, pausing when Cecil gapes at him like a frightened bunny. He shifts toward Cecil, kneeling in front of him so he’s leaning over him. Carlos feels a little giddy at the chance to overpower Cecil, given that he usually is always a good few inches shorter than him. He cups Cecil’s chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilts his head back, leaning close enough so that they can both feel each other’s breath ghosting against open mouths. He waits and doesn’t move any closer, waiting for Cecil’s full consent.

Cecil presses forward to close the gap between them and seals their lips together. Carlos moves closer and carefully takes the pillow out of Cecil’s lap and moves forward to straddle him. Cecil gasps into his mouth at the sudden pressure and Carlos takes this chance to lick into Cecil’s mouth, moaning slightly at the gorgeous, familiar taste of Cecil’s mouth that he can never seem to get enough of.

Cecil slowly drags his fingers from where they’re twisted in the sheets and places them gently on Carlos’s hips. Carlos rocks his hips softly against Cecil’s and appreciates every small groan and sigh Cecil omits from the feelings of stimulation.

Carlos breaks quickly to shed his shirt and coax an entranced Cecil to allow Carlos to unbutton and peel off his button-up. Too late, Cecil realizes that Carlos has never seen him shirtless and his eyes open quickly. His red blush starts to turn to an embarrassed pink as Carlos’s eyes run over the slowly moving tattoos that adorn Cecil’s arms and chest. Cecil starts to shrivel into himself shyly but Carlos grasps Cecil’s face in his hands and kisses him roughly. Cecil’s eyes widen as he feels the bump of Carlos’s crotch grow beneath his jeans and his skin go hot.

Carlos pushes Cecil so that he’s lying down against the bed and Carlos is carefully grinding against Cecil and trailing kisses against the corner of his mouth and down his jaw onto the soft skin of his neck. He nips it lightly and whispers, “ _Querido_ ” into Cecil’s skin.

Carlos moves a hand to press against the clothed crotch of Cecil’s trousers, which is met with a loud, needy groan from Cecil below him. He grins against Cecil’s neck and kisses him again. He moves his hand cautiously, rubbing his long-ignored cock through layers of clothing and enjoying the endless, broken whimpers that it earns him from Cecil’s usually smooth, trained voice.

“God, Cecil,” he pants into Cecil’s ear, “You’re so beautiful. So lovely. The loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Cecil screws his eyes shut tight and lifts his hips to meet Carlos’s touch.

“Is this the first time you’ve ever felt like this? Is this the first time you’ve ever done anything like this?”

Cecil nods jerkily, a choked sound leaving his throat.

Carlos feels emotion well in his chest and he forces himself to drag his hand away. He lifts himself up and Cecil’s eyes open and he whines slightly at the loss of contact. Carlos asks, “Can I—Cecil, will you let me…do you want to…?”

Cecil nods frantically, wrapping his fingers around Carlos’s neck and pulling him in for a desperate, rushed kiss. Their teeth knock together and Carlos feels the pressure of Cecil’s tongue against his and he realizes that suddenly his jeans have become entirely too tight.

He hastily unzips both of their trousers and pulls down Cecil’s boxers to feel his full length in his hand. He wants to do more, so much more, but Cecil is so innocent and unsure and so very, very hard that Carlos is sure he wouldn’t last anything more than something quick and messy. He strokes him slowly, careful not to trigger Cecil too soon. Nonetheless, Cecil cries out against Carlos’s tongue and embeds his fists into the sheets, twisting them around his hands. Carlos bites Cecil’s lip lightly and pants into his mouth.

“Carlos,” Cecil sobs, and then repeats his name over and over and over again, as if it’s the only thought that he can process in that moment. He says it in a trance, as if Carlos has overtaken his mind and cast a spell over him that makes him impervious to all sadness and anger and hesitance and fills his mind and his thoughts and his emotions with just _Carlos, Carlos, Carlos_. He says his name as if everyone he had ever known had been replaced with Carlos and every cell in his body screamed for the strange scientist that bled curiosity and wonder and brilliance and spoke with stars falling out of his mouth.

Carlos buries his face into the crook of Cecil’s neck, pushing his cock against Cecil’s and taking them both in his hand. He sinks his teeth into Cecil’s shoulder against one of his tattoos and shudders violently against him as he feels the ink dance under his teeth.

“ _Carajo_ ,” Carlos swears, despite using vulgarity so rarely. “Cecil, _carajo_ , Cecil, Cecil…”

It only takes a quick few strokes to get Cecil off, who is raw and desperate and distraught. Cecil comes viciously, sharp teeth gritted in an attempt to suppress his scream. Carlos comes moments later, barely able to contain himself after being overwhelmed with the sound of Cecil’s arousal underneath him. He holds them both and strokes them both through their aftershocks and when they both turn soft and come down from their highs he presses soft kisses against Cecil’s neck and the skin behind his ear. Cecil wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist tightly and ignores the mess pooling against both their chests.

Carlos mumbles something sleepily into his ear about an invasion of his privacy, and how if he ever found Cecil searching through his stuff again he would not treat him so courteously.

Cecil laughs softly, and says, “Are you suggesting that you could somehow top that?”


End file.
